


Reunion

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: After the conclave explosion, the newly minted Herald of Andraste has a lot to juggle.  One of those things is the whereabouts of someone very important to her.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> @rufinagertrude made me dust this off and post this!

Ianthe doesn’t have a lot of time to decompress after the Conclave explodes.  She goes from merc to prisoner to Herald of Andraste faster than she can down a pint of ale (and she can down a pint pretty fast, when motivated).  As Varric says, most people would’ve spread that out a bit.

Finally, after meeting Josephine and properly meeting Leliana and Cullen, she has a moment to herself.  She retreats to the room she woke up in, assuming that it’s hers now.  Nobody has told her otherwise, at least.

The door closes quietly behind her and she takes a few steps into the room.  It’s a lot nicer than the last few places she’s stayed.  As long as they don’t clap her in irons again, she could be comfortable here.  

“What has even happened?” Ianthe murmurs to herself with a sigh.  

It finally hits her that everyone she met at the Conclave is dead.  Everyone from her merc unit is dead, and she has no idea about the state of the rest of the company.  

The realization makes her land on the bed heavily.  

While she’s lost friends before- it’s inevitable in her line of work- she’s never lost so many all at once.  At least ten others from the company were in the temple with her, and the chances of there being any other survivors from the Conclave has shrunk to none.

The rest of the company was to follow that day.  Ianthe has no idea if they had arrived, hadn’t left town yet, or were somewhere between the two points.  They were coming from the opposite direction from Haven, so the fact that she hasn’t seen them doesn’t mean anything.  Despite the fact that she has some kind of sway in this newfound Inquisition, she’s not sure if she can send someone to the village to find out if there’s any word.  

Swallowing around the lump that has suddenly formed in her throat, she wipes at the tears at the creases of her eyes.  More than anyone, she’s worried about her brother.  He was with the main bulk of the Valo-Kas, so his fate is as uncertain as everyone else’s.  

If he is still alive, he must be in a bad state, considering he must think she’s dead.  There is very little that would destroy either of them as much as losing each other.  It seems like the death of her brother is something that she’d feel, somewhere deep inside, so she’s going to assume that he’s alive out there somewhere.

Ianthe realizes that she has to do something, so she gets to her feet again.  She checks in the mirror to make sure she doesn’t look like she’s been crying before stepping back outside, her moment of respite over.  

“Have you found any qunari bodies?” Ianthe asks Cassandra.  “From the Conclave, I mean.”

Cassandra sheathes her sword, looking at her cautiously.  “Several.”

“Where are they?” Ianthe asks.

“We did not know what your people’s burial customs are, so we buried them in a mass grave outside town.  There wasn’t much left of them anyway,” Cassandra says.  

“Which way?” Ianthe asks.  

“You would have to ask one of the gravediggers,” Cassandra says.

Ianthe nods.  “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for her to find the diggers and get the information out of them.  They seem strangely reluctant to tell her and even more reluctant to hand her a shovel, but they do so anyway.  

Knowing the general area, it’s easy to know where to look.  The ground is loose and has been disturbed recently.  She’s careful as she digs, not wanting to accidentally cause more damage to the bodies that might render them impossible to identify.  

The stench is overwhelming, but Ianthe has spent most of her adult life around death, so the stench itself doesn’t bother her.  She mourns the loss of whatever friends she might have lost, of course, but death itself is something that she’s used to.

Many of the faces are burned and decayed beyond recognition, and she checks for other markers to identify them.  She recognizes with a twinge of sadness a few people- Taraas, the bard that had made her laugh more times than she can count; Vaarad, a promising new recruit on her first mission; Bas, a terrifying warrior woman who she had a fun fling with once; Asaara, who had tried to teach her some sort of healing magic.  Most of them will be buried without anyone knowing who they are.

Bas hadn’t been with her squad, so some of the rest of the company had started coming to the Conclave.  It’s not a good sign.  

Feeling weary, she covers them back up.  So much death, and for what?  Nothing that she can discern.  She just needs to talk to Kharon.  Then things will feel right again. 

“I'm sorry that we did not think to cremate them properly,” Leliana’s voice startles her.  “With so many dead, someone decided that pyres should only go to the human dead.”

Ianthe only barely manages to avoid jumping out of her skin and hopefully looks composed as she turns to face the spymaster.  Quite frankly, the other woman makes her feel ill at ease.  She has the demeanor of someone who has survived more than any one person has the right to endure- and has, in turn, forced other people to endure such things.  

“Of those I can identify, only Taraas was a devout Andrastian.  As mercenaries, we’re used to disposing of our dead in whatever way is most convenient,” Ianthe says.  

“Still, it is not right that we cast them aside so easily,” Leliana says, shaking her head.  This seems more like a personal problem, so Ianthe keeps her mouth shut until Leliana hands her a letter.  “This came, and I thought you would like to read it as soon as possible.”

Ianthe reads the name on the envelope:  _ Ianthe Adaar (if not dead) _ .  She looks up to thank Leliana, heartbeat already quickening in anticipation, but the other woman has disappeared.  

Setting her concern aside, she opens the letter eagerly.  It looks like at least someone from the Valo-Kas survived after all.  

_ Adaar _

__   
_ I heard you were dead, and then a prisoner, and then maybe you fell out of the Fade and landed on your head and forgot who you were. Seriously, stop that. We still haven't been paid. _ __   
__   
_ Some of our kith made it out of that giant shit hole full of demons after the explosion. The rest are dead or missing. I don't know how many were rounded up by angry humans. If you're not dead and you remember who you are, help me find our brothers and sisters. _ __   
__   
_ Shokrakar _ __   
__   
_ P.S. If you forgot who you are, I'll remind you: Your name is Adaar. You're Vashoth. You didn't get paid for being blown up. _ __   
_   
_ __ P.P.S. If you are dead, disregard this message.

 

_ P.P.P.S. I haven’t heard from Kharon.  I sent him up the mountain a little before the explosion.   _

 

Ianthe sighs in relief, even as her stomach twists into new knots.  At least Shokrakar and some of her company survived.  But no one has heard from her brother, either, who was definitely in danger.   

The thought makes her heart clench.  

But there are people that she knows that she can help.  While she’s sure that she's not in charge, she's sure that she can get someone to spring her companions from jail.  They can keep an eye out for Kharon while they're at it.   

With the letter from Shokrakar in hand, she walks back towards Haven.  She gathers her advisors around the war table and explains the situation, apologizing for gathering them so late.  

“If human lords have captured them, I could arrange their release,” Leliana says.  “It shouldn't be too much trouble.”

Ianthe is about to ask if she would, but then she remembers that she's a leader now.  Even if she's not the leader of the Inquisition, she's certainly one of them, and she needs to act that way.   

“Do it,” Ianthe says with a decisive nod. 

“By the time you return from the Hinterlands, it'll be done, Herald,” Leliana says.  

“Good.  Thank you,” Ianthe says.  “We’ll leave early and return with Mother Giselle and, hopefully, horses.”

Ianthe catches Leliana as they depart, stuffing down her nervousness.  

“Can I help you, Herald?” Leliana asks.  

“One more thing…” Ianthe says.  “When you send your agents out, please tell them to be on the lookout for a vashoth man by the name of Kharon.”

“Shall I have him brought here?” Leliana says.  

“Just have them mention my name.  He’ll come here of his own accord,” Ianthe says with a smile.  

Leliana nods.  “Understood.  If they find him, I will send you a letter.”

“Thank you again,” Ianthe says.  “The Valo-Kas are good people, and they don’t deserve to be locked up.”

“I will do what I can,” Leliana says, “and I am certain that my agents will be able to handle this discreetly.”

“Hopefully, next time we meet, we’ll both have good news,” Ianthe says.  “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Herald,” Leliana says, turning back towards the Chantry and getting to work.

* * *

The Hinterlands aren’t the worst place she’s ever been.  It’s cool, but still temperate, and it doesn’t rain too much.  If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sense of doom hanging over her, it’d be a pleasant trip.  

Every time they stop at an Inquisition camp, she asks after letters, but nothing comes.  It makes her antsy.  That she hadn’t heard from him after a few days didn’t worry her too much, but now that it’s been weeks since the Conclave exploded, she’s losing hope.  

Ianthe is near silent on the way back to Haven.  Varric is kind and keeps trying to engage her in conversation, but she can’t manage it.  The weight of everything that has happened and the sheer magnitude of what they have to accomplish is finally settling over her.  While she’s ready to put in the work- and get others to put in the work- it’s still a daunting task.  

Vashedan, she’s going to have to explain everything that’s happened to their parents.  How do you even put any of this in a letter?  Maybe she’ll just wait until everything is over, one way or another.  They’re used to not hearing from them for a while anyway.  

Ianthe is ready to drop by the time her feet hit the increasingly familiar paths leading to Haven.  She’s thoroughly explored the area near the village itself, and she could make it back to her room with her eyes closed.  

And then the adrenaline courses through her veins as she catches sight of a slim vashoth  man out of the corner of her eye.  Her heart leaps into her throat as she stumbles forward. The man’s back is to her, but she's certain.  

“Kharon!” Ianthe calls out. 

When he turns around, her feet take on a life of their own, running faster than she thought she could.  She doesnt stop until she slams into her brother, colliding into his embrace.  

“Bastard.  I thought you were dead,” Ianthe murmurs. 

“Nah,” Kharon says.  “We still have things to do, big sis.”

Ianthe laughs, the things she has to do suddenly seeming much more possible.  Kharon is alive Kharon is well Kharon is here. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ianthe whispers.  

Kharon pulls back far enough to look her in the eye.  There’s a disbelieving grin on his face.  “I’ve heard a few things.”

Ianthe inhales deeply and nods, running her gaze over his face.  It’s covered scratches and scrapes, with a deep cut on his cheek that’s been stitched up messily.  She recognizes the handiwork as his own.  

“I take it this is someone you know,” Solas’ voice is soft behind her.  

Ianthe flushes, realizing that they’re not alone.  She had forgotten that people make note of what she does now.  

Flinging her arm around Kharon’s shoulders, she turns to face the people who have trekked through the Hinterlands with her.  She’s unable to keep the grin off her face, the weight of Kharon’s arm on her shoulder making her feel happy.  

“Yes!  This is my brother, Kharon Adaar,” Ianthe says, tapping his chest to remind her that he’s here.  “And this is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, author and businessman Varric Tethras, and fellow apostate Solas.”  

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Cassandra says.  

“Nobody asked,” Ianthe says.  

“You didn’t mention me at all?  I’m hurt,” Kharon murmurs.

Ianthe rolls her eyes.  

“It’s good to meet you!” Varric says, stepping forward to give Kharon a proper handshake.  With their height difference and Kharon’s arm still slung around her, it’s almost comical.  “And it’s good to see the Herald smile for once.”

“So the gossip is true?  You're the Herald of Andraste?” Kharon asks.  

“Let's talk privately and get your injuries looked at by an actual healer,” Ianthe says.  

“You worry too much.”

“ _ Kharon _ ,” Ianthe says sternly.  “It’s been weeks since the Conclave.  They should be healed.”

“I got in a few more fights since then,” Kharon says.  

Ianthe sighs.  Probably whatever stupid humans took him prisoner, but he’d never say that.

“Fine, fine.  Herald of Andraste, take me to your finest healers,” Kharon concedes.  

“Thank you,” Ianthe says, turning to smile at her companions.  “I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow.”

They nod at her, bidding her goodnight as she leads Kharon away.  The both of them are silent as Ianthe leads him towards the healers.  It's late, so there aren't a lot of people to see them, but whispers follow them nonetheless. 

She apologizes to the healers for waking them up before asking them to check out her brother’s injuries.  When he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a wide slash across his front, Ianthe’s frown deepens.

They’re both knowledgeable enough to take care of minor injuries by themselves, but when there are healers around, it’s definitely better to take advantage of their skills.  Especially with a cut that deep.  

Ianthe stands in the corner as the healers work, arms crossed.  She’s still not sure that she believes that he’s okay.  Although, it’s about time that something went totally right.

“It’s an honor to be called upon to help your brother, Herald,” the healer says, examining his chest wound.  

“I appreciate it,” Ianthe says.  “You’re the best healer the Inquisition has.”

“Your Worship honors me,” he says.  

Kharon raises his eyebrows at the title and Ianthe shrugs.

It doesn’t take long for the healer to finish his work, and they both thank him quickly before showing him to the door.  Once they’re alone, Kharon sighs.

“So, what’s the plan?” Kharon asks, leaning against the door.  

“Plan?” Ianthe asks.  

Kharon presses his palms to the door, tapping his fingers impatiently.  He looks unexpectedly serious.  

“To get out of here.  To get away from this Inquisition,” Kharon presses.  

“There is no plan.  I’m here willingly, Kharon,” Ianthe says.  “We’re going to seal the Breach and save the world.”

“Don’t be so foolish,” Kharon says harshly.

Ianthe raises her eyebrows, crossing her arms.  “This isn’t like you.  This is a chance to help people, to really make a difference.  What’s wrong?”

Kharon refuses to look at her, so she crosses the room.  She puts a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing.  

“C’mon.”

“Fine,” Kharon says, fixing her with a stare.  “They  _ burned _ Andraste, Ianthe.  If they’ll do that to a human, what do they think they’ll do to you when they decide that you’re too much trouble?  You’ll be a heretic.”

“Well, Chancellor Roderick is still calling for my execution, so I think it’s safe to say that I already am a heretic,” Ianthe says. 

“That doesn’t help,” Kharon says.  

“Cassandra and the others aren’t about to hand me over to him,” Ianthe explains.

“And when they turn on you?”

Ianthe pulls the glove off her left hand, baring it to Kharon.  “This is the only way to seal the fade rifts and the tear in the sky.  I can’t walk away from that.”

Kharon takes her hand in his.  He traces the outline of the mark on her hand delicately before looking up at her with fear plain on his face.  

“Sister…”

“I walked out of the Fade with the one thing that can seal the hole in the sky.  I can’t not try to do this, Kharon.  Plus, when I first woke up, it was killing me.  It might start to do so again,” Ianthe says, shuddering at the memory of the pain.  “It’d be best to be here, where there are resources.”

Kharon exhales hard, glaring at it as if he hopes that he can get rid of it through sheer force of will alone.  

“If you’re staying, I’m staying,” Kharon says, resigned.

“I was hoping you would,” Ianthe says.  “I was scared when I didn’t know what had happened to you.  It’d be nice, having you close.”

“I was coming up to the Conclave when it exploded,” Kharon says, dropping her hand.  “I flew… Maker knows how far.”

“It was a huge explosion.  I kept looking for you, but most of the bodies were burned beyond recognition,” Ianthe says.  

“I don’t really remember most of it.  Or what happened next.  I hit my head.  When I woke up, I was in some dungeon.  They brought in a few more members of the Valo-Kas company and some elves and dwarves,” Kharon says, shaking his head.  “I think they were rounding up all the nonhumans.”

“Did they hurt you?” Ianthe asks, fists balling up.  “Any of you?”

“Nah,” Kharon says with a laugh.  “I figured it was for the best that I get us out of there before they had a chance.”

Ianthe relaxes by a fraction of an inch.  “How did you get hurt?  It can’t’ve been the Conclave explosion.”

“It was a long walk from that nobleman’s dungeon to Haven,” Kharon says.  “I had heard some of the guards talking about the Herald of Andraste- a qunari who walked out of the Fade.  I figured this was the only lead I had on where you might be.  You couldn’t be dead.  I refused to believe it.”

“Walking doesn’t usually come with facial scrapes and a big cut,” Ianthe points out.  “Unless you got very clumsy.”

“It wasn’t all smooth sailing, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.  Mama and Papa taught us both to fight with our fists,” Kharon says.

“So you’re not going to tell me.  Fine,” Ianthe says with a sigh.  She crosses the room to sit on her bed, leaning against the wall.  “I’m too tired to fight.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kharon says.  A mischievous grin lights across his face.  “What matters is how the Herald of Andraste feels about all of this?”

“Don't you start calling me that,” Ianthe says.  “Suddenly being marked by the Maker and leading a heretical movement is really strange.”

Kharon comes to sit beside her, knocking their shoulders together.  “Don't worry.  I’ll always think of you as the annoying big sister who used to hide my things.”

Ianthe smiles at him, resting her head on his shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“Now… Since you're the Herald of Andraste, I assume that you're the one who is going to tell Mama and Papa about this.  Because I don't want to write  _ that  _ letter,” Kharon says.  “But you must have divine insight.”

“Ooooh no,” Ianthe says.  “I'm delegating that to you.  I'm going to be busy sealing rifts in the Fade.  And the Breach!  Gotta seal that too, somehow.  So my plate is full.  Alas, that means you have to do it.”

Kharon laughs, the familiar sound warming Ianthe.  “Dear Mama and Papa, Miss you.  How are the livestock?  By the way, Ianthe has started a cult and is responsible for closing the tear in the sky.  The humans started calling her the Herald of Andraste.  I'm going to stay with her, so we probably won't be home for our birthdays.  Love you!  Kharon.”

Ianthe joins in his laughter.  Their situation is truly ridiculous.  

“Technically, we're an inquisition, not a cult.  Maybe?  I think,” Ianthe says when she catches her breath.  “Which is different.  I hope.”

“I don't want to explain the difference to them,” Kharon says, clucking his tongue.  “Plus, you haven't heard how people talk about you.  They sound those cultists we met in Nevarra.”

“They were worshipping a rock,” Ianthe says. 

“Yeah, I understand that more than worshipping you,” Kharon says.  “It was  _ really _ sparkly.”

Ianthe elbows him good naturedly before turning somber.  “I can’t blame you.  I honestly don’t know if I can do this.”

Kharon wraps his arm around her, holding her tight.  He kisses the top of her head before resting his cheek there.  They’ve sat like this in all kinds of places, the only constant in each other’s lives.  

“You can.  I don’t know exactly what the next few months are going to bring, but if anyone can do it, it’s you,” Kharon says softly.  

She feels so uncertain, but at least she has her brother now.  That makes things feel better.  That makes things feel even, for the first time in so long.


End file.
